Living For
by Eve215
Summary: Arthur is worried about Ariadne and asks Cobb for help... only his request is something Cobb isn't willing to do.


**_Summary: Arthur is worried about Ariadne and asks Cobb for help... only his request is something Cobb isn't willing to do._**

_A/N: This isn't (so far) any kind of 'shipper' story. It's more of a character story, but toward the end some 'ship' may come out. I'm not sure. I know where I want to to go, but sometimes that doesn't always happen. __This will be a __multi__-chapter story... and hopefully not all of my a/n come out this boring in the subsequent chapters __lol__ OH and I gave Arthur the last name Smith... no real reason..._

_Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine... all mistakes are... and I'm assuming there will be mistakes. _

_O*O*O*O*O*O*O_

**Chapter 1: _The Mark_**

"I'm not doing this, and neither are you!" Dominic Cobb yelled in no uncertain terms as he paced back and forth, his hands agitatedly changing positions between his navy corduroy jean pockets to his now disheveled light brown hair and back again. _It was not an option._

"Cobb, calm down. I'm not suggesting we have to hurt her." Arthur Smith stood, his hands out both pleading for Cobb to relax and for understanding for what he was saying. Arthur didn't look like himself either. He had on his normal black slacks and matching vest, but no tie. His black hair was properly fixed, showing a bit of trying on his part, but the dark circles under his tired eyes were telling his tale. He hadn't slept very much in the past few days.

Dom stopped pacing, trying to gain his composure. Trying to make his mind think of something else other than, _"No!". _He couldn't look at Arthur. Couldn't fathom doing _that_ to _her. _When he finally spoke, his words were dark and cold. "You don't know what you are suggesting."

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but closed it quickly. Instead, he let out a hefty, exasperated sigh and rubbed the back of his tension filled neck. He had known how this conversation was going to go when he first landed in L.A. and sought his business associate (and sometime friend) out to make this request. He had known Cobb would balk, but he had to make him see reason. He had to make him see that this was the only way.

He knew that Cobb was skeptical meeting him there—in the rundown warehouse that looked like all the others they had ever used. Cobb had done what Arthur had known he would. He had assumed that Arthur had a job he wanted him to do, and, to be fair, the assumption was both right and wrong.

"Cobb," Arthur tried again, tried to find some words that would make him understand. "Don't think for one second that I want to do this. But it may be the only way."

"It's not an option." His companion spat back. He didn't want to hear any more. Inception was never '_the only way'_. Inception was tricky at best and catastrophic at worst.

Arthur continued as if he hadn't heard him. "Yusuf called. He's worried. He said Ariadne had bought enough sedatives to keep a horse down for a week. He said he had cut her off, and she had agreed, but he said—"

"He said what?" Cobb shrugged his tired, stress-filled shoulders and crossed his arms over his chest.

The fact that Cobb was finally looking at him gave Arthur some semblance of hope that maybe he would listen. Probably not agree, but at least listen. "He said that Ariadne seemed a little to willing to just stop buying the sedatives from him. Yusuf thinks that she has another buyer. Someone who probably doesn't have her best interests at heart."

"But why?" For the first time, Cobb's mind began to clear from his anger at Arthur's initial suggestion and finally focused on Ariadne. "Why would she need a sedative, much less that much? One person wouldn't need that much."

"They would if they used it at least two to three times a day for months on end." Arthur explained exactly how a worried Yusuf had explained it to a few weeks earlier when the chemist had phoned him.

And with that, Cobb knew. Deep down he knew what had been the problem. He understood what she was doing, and he didn't like it. When it all came rushing into the forefront of his mind, it felt like he was going to be smothered by it. But the one simple truth about dreams and dream building… "The real world isn't enough for her anymore." He whispered to himself as much as to Arthur.

Arthur nodded sadly. "Apparently not," he said, his normally cool voice broke. He had already reached that conclusion a few days before. Real life wasn't enough for Ariadne now.

It had been six months since the Fischer job and for about two months after, he and Ariadne had casually dated. Dom knew this because because in the beginning he had made it a priority to call her at least weekly to find out if she was ok, if she needed anything, and if she was readjusting to life back in the real world. She had seemed… fine. Always fine. Always chipper. Always talked about some new project she was doing for school, but there was always a hint of sadness underneath. The first time Dom had questioned her about it, she had insisted that it was due to her and Arthur deciding there could be no romance between them (a fact Cobb knew Arthur didn't agree with).

Dom tried to remember the last time he'd called her then realized that he had been slacking. Every week turned into every two weeks, then once a month, then maybe once every two months and then…. He remembered. It had been six weeks since he'd called Ariadne. It had been a short conversation, nothing much more than "hi" "how are you?" and "bye" as James and Phillipa had begun fighting from the moment Ariadne had picked up the phone.

Six weeks… a lot could happen in six weeks. And it had been about a month before that that he'd talked to her prior. He began to feel a feeling that he hadn't felt in six months. A feeling he'd hoped he had buried along with his projection of Mal, his dead wife and former frequent nightmare.

Guilt.

"Have you talked to her lately?" Cobb asked somberly.

"Yeah, about a week ago" Arthur answered sitting down in one of the old rusty chairs scattered through the warehouse. He didn't care if his dark trousers got dirty. At that moment, fashion was the least of his worries.

"And?" Cobb pressed. He leaned back against one of the abandoned tables and eyed Arthur intently, pushing him to answer.

"And- and she was Ariadne. She met me at a café in Paris. She seemed ok. She looked amazing—" his voice trailed off as he remembered how she had looked that spring day. Her light brown hair was being kissed by the warming sun. Her skin was pale, but her cheeks had a hint of color. But her eyes. Her eyes had betrayed her. They were lifeless. Dead.

"Did she say anything? Anything at all to make you this worried?" Cobb asked, trying to get Arthur out of his memories and into the present conversation again.

"Uh—yeah. She said her studies were going well. She said she was working on some project for Miles. But, Man, I'm telling you. She wasn't 'there'. Her eyes were so lifeless. Like someone had awakened a dead person."

"Maybe we did." Cobb said only to himself, and when Arthur asked him about it, he shrugged and continued, "What was the project she was doing for Miles?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a bridge. Nothing too complicated it didn't seem."

And there was the problem. Ariadne had built cities in her dreams. Hotels. Intricate mazes that would confuse even the smartest minds. She had had her entire imagination at her disposal and the world was hers to construct.

And now…

And now she was back to building bridges. Mundane, simple bridges when she had been teased with cathedrals. She now had to live and draw within Earth's laws and physics when in the dreams she basically had nothing holding her back.

He remembered the feeling well. He remembered the God-like feeling of pure creation. He had devoured it when he had first started being a dream architect and let it loose when he and Mal had been stuck in Limbo. But the difference was that he had had fifty years in that place to construct, to get bored, to want a 'mundane' life again. To just… be. Ariadne had only had a taste. An introduction to a drug that would take her to her creative plateaus, and then to have it totally taken away from her... Of course, she had fallen into sedatives… Of course, she needed help.

"I don't mind telling you, Cobb. I'm very worried about her." Arthur's voice was still strained. He hated feeling like he had no control. No control over Cobb's decision and no control over Ariadne.

"Obviously," Cobb answered with just a hint of a sad smile. "Or you wouldn't have proposed something as insane and dangerous as this."

Arthur stood, unable to keep his seat any more. "I'm scared that she's going to go in too deep. I'm afraid she's going to accidentally, or Hell, even _want_ to go into Limbo and never come back to us—to reality." He corrected. "I don't want to lose her." He added for effect, hoping Cobb would get the meaning.

He didn't have to hope much because Cobb understood. His body was steely calm, but his mind was racing. Mal, his wife, had fallen in love with the dream world. She had wanted to stay there and when they had finally broken free, she had came back a broken woman. Ariadne wasn't Mal. Cobb knew that. He knew that Ariadne wasn't possessed by an idea…. But the outcome might very well be the same. Mal had been possessed with going 'home'. Ariadne was possessed with the idea of pure creation (or so it seemed) and he'd be damned if the outcomes were the same.

"I'll go to Paris." Cobb replied finally. "I'll go and talk to her. First, I need to see if what we have hypothesized is even really what's going on. I'll take the kids with me. Miles has wanted me to bring them to visit every since he went back."

Arthur remained very still. It was the moment of truth, and he knew it. "And what if reasoning with her doesn't work?"

Cobb clinched his jaw. There was no way in Hell he was going to do that to someone he cared about… not again. "It has to," he said.


End file.
